The Death Of Caesar

Julius Caesar did, with disdain, snort

through nasal appendage of Roman sort

at Decimus Brutus carrying sacks

about to burst with  patisserie snacks.

With thund'rous bombast did Brutus declare,

"Hail Caesar!  Please try a chocolate eclair ...

... or, Jules, you might prefer a nice Bath bun.

Go on, choose a cake -- but, please, take just one.

The rest are for the lads in the Senate.

I'm off to the loo ... back in a minute ..."

Leaving his cakes, he departed the scene

to hoist his toga and splash porcelain.

Under arched eyebrows Emperor Caesar 

peered regally down his Latin sneezer

at sticky, sweet treats in the nearest sack.

His eyes took a taste; how could he hold back!?

He gazed on fancies as big as a fist --

This Roman tyrant refused to resist!

That itch of temptation cried to be scratched.

As swift as a hawk his hand swooped and snatched

a couple of cakes, and to his mouth flew.

He swallowed those cakes with barely a chew.

His ablutions over, Brutus bounded

back into the room, and was astounded

to witness Caesar's gluttonous disgrace,

crumbs, icing and jam obscuring his face.

"Jupiter save us!  Was one not enough?

I'd promised Cassius that lovely cream puff ..."

And with these strong words bold Brutus drew steel,

and, lending deaf ears to Caesar's appeal 

("Those buns were delicious -- really, quite nice.

How could I stop myself trying them twice?)

he drove his king through, knife up to the hilt,

saw Caesar's surprise at this sudden jilt.

"You're a greedy despot," Brutus explained,

          "You no longer suit us."

"I only ...," uttered Caesar, pausing, pained,

          straining, "... ate two, Brutus ..."

                                                 (c)Frank Rooney